


Another Cup of Coffee

by needles



Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [71]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29968632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needles/pseuds/needles
Summary: Bokuto came round from brain tumour surgery believing that he and Akaashi were married, only to find it was all a dream. Now he's not sure what or who to trust, especially himself.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Bokuaka Detective drabbles [71]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116251
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Another Cup of Coffee

As Keiji stood in his kitchen mechanically filling and preparing his coffee maker he shook his head in disbelief. He was a rationalist, an empiricist, a scientist for heaven’s sake; and yet he could find no other term that adequately described the behaviour of his partner. Bokuto sat there on Keiji’s couch, working through paperwork, and eating take-out just as they had done hundreds of times before and yet he wasn’t the same.

This man that he thought he knew was different. Oh he looked the same, sounded the same, smelt the same, and did things to Keiji’s body just by sitting next to him that even Keiji would blush to describe; but he had changed. Keiji had always believed that Bokuto could read him like a book, that he could tell what people were thinking just by looking at them. Every word they spoke was a clue that he would seize upon to unravel their innermost thoughts. Keiji had seen him do it, time and again, in the interrogation room, and to him. Yet now, now that he wanted Bokuto to understand him, he had become oblivious to everything Keiji did, everything he said. Signs that Keiji thought were blatantly obvious to a blind man passed over Bokuto’s head without so much as registering on his people radar. Keiji felt like banging his head on his wall.

Somehow Bokuto Koutarou had been transubstantiated into Keiji, the clueless, oblivious, Akaashi Keiji who couldn’t read body language to save his life. Keiji had inwardly laughed at Bokuto for believing that one substance could be turned into another in the middle of Mass, it wasn’t possible; at least without the aid of a nuclear reactor the size of the Sun. But here he was faced with a partner who was suddenly someone else just when he was ready to let him know how he felt. How he felt right now was like crying, but that would do no good. No, he needed to think logically. If Bokuto couldn’t read his signals then he needed better signals.

Keiji laid out their mugs as the coffee dripped slowly through the machine.

He was like Keiji, so what did he need from Keiji to know how he felt? Keiji was no good at reading subtlety so it had to be obvious. Keiji had never been able to tell what somebody wanted from him unless it was spelled out clearly and precisely. It made sense that this was what he had to do now. What was required was a clear unambiguous statement of how he felt. It scared him to death. Well not literally of course, his heart rate was raised but it was still beating, he was not in imminent danger of expiring any minute, but figuratively he was. If Keiji laid out for Bokuto exactly what he felt and was rejected he knew he could never risk it again, this was his one chance at love.

So maybe he should leave well alone, stick to being partners. Remain friends and colleagues rather than lose him for good. Except that Keiji couldn’t do it, it would be like a living death. Bokuto had brought Keiji out of his shell so far that he couldn’t willingly crawl back inside; it was no refuge anymore. Keiji needed him, all of him, like the air he breathed. He had to tell him; he had no choice anymore. Keiji felt a rising panic, no he couldn’t do it, he had to stay rational. He felt the familiar urge to run.

Suddenly he was aware of Bokuto behind him. He hadn’t made a sound but Keiji knew he was there, his body had become so attuned to him.

Something was wrong with Keiji, Bokuto knew. His instincts told him it was something to do with him too. He was used to trusting his instincts, they had never let him down as a sniper or as a detective but now he was having doubts. Doubts about Keiji, about them. He had been so convinced by the Keiji in his tumour induced dream in the hospital that to find it was all a product of his imagination had thrown him seriously off balance. He was so used to knowing how Keiji felt, even if he didn’t show it, that to realise he could be so seriously misled by his own brain had left him floundering. He had fallen back on what he was sure of, they were partners, Keiji was a genius who never lied to him, who didn’t play emotional games with people. Keiji spoke his mind, bluntly maybe, but he always meant what he said, and he had said he was Bokuto’s partner. Nothing more, nothing less. Keiji didn’t agree with marriage or monogamy. Sex was a biological imperative, and romantic love was just something he didn’t believe in. That was who Keiji was, not Bokuto’s lover, his partner. So that was how he should treat him. Anything more was a fantasy created by his brain tumour. Now that was gone he had to accept it had all been a dream.

But it wasn’t working. Oh sure they were solving cases, catching killers, but something had been lost. The easy intimacy that he knew they had shared seemed to be strained. Keiji watched him now as if he were waiting for something, Bokuto had a feeling Keiji was sending messages he couldn’t read. If it were anyone else he would even say they had flirted with him, but not Keiji. Keiji didn’t flirt. He must be reading him wrong and that unnerved him. Oikawa had told him that he might only think he loved Keiji as a result of his tumour, and that had only added to his uncertainty. If he said something to Keiji then it all faded away he knew the damage would be incalculable. He couldn’t let that happen, even if he didn’t love Keiji he still couldn’t do that to him and live with himself.

But the feelings hadn’t faded and he had memories from before his surgery, long before, that told him he’d felt that way about Keiji for a long time. It must be real. If only he could trust himself to read Keiji right. Could he have changed so much from the man he met over five years ago? He thought back over those years. Many times Keiji had surprised him by his empathy with their victims, and occasionally even the perp. He certainly seemed to relate to other people better than he once did and his vocabulary had grown to encompass idiomatic terms and phrases that most people used daily but which Keiji had never understood. He seemed to be trying to develop that ‘frontal lobe’ Bokuto had kidded him about. Akaashi Keiji never did anything he didn’t mean to do; everything had a purpose to him. If he was trying to change himself then what was it for? Who was it for? Bokuto’s heart wanted to believe he had something to do with it, but his head was saying ‘what if you’re wrong?’

He’d told Oikawa that he’d know if Keiji loved him, but that was a lie now. Once he would have, and he desperately wanted to believe that the signals Keiji was giving him meant that he did. He just wasn’t sure he could trust his own judgement anymore. But his grandpa had told him to trust Keiji’s heart, just as he himself had once told Keiji to do. Maybe he should, maybe things seemed wrong because he was trying to be someone he wasn’t?

Keiji was taking his time with that coffee; perhaps he should check he was ok. He’d looked sad when he’d gone to the kitchen, wistful almost, as if he’d been hoping for something that hadn’t happened.

Keiji was standing with his back to him, arms braced on the counter watching the coffee drip slowly into the jug but Bokuto knew he wasn’t seeing it. That huge brain of his was thinking; processing; deciding; and suddenly he knew he had to stop it before Keiji made a wrong decision. Before he gave up trying to tell him whatever it was he was missing.

He stepped up until he was right behind him and slipped his arms around Keiji’s waist. Lowering his head he whispered in Keiji’s ear. “Talk to me.”

Keiji lowered his head but remained facing away from him, “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me how you feel.”

He gave a half laugh. “About what, Bokuto san?”

“About me, Akaashi, about us. You’ve been sending me messages that I’m not sure I understand.”

“I thought you were the people person Bokuto san. I’m the clueless one, remember?”

“That’s what I used to think Akaashi, but since the surgery I’m not sure anymore.” The sadness in his tone made Keiji turn and look at him.

“Not sure?”

Bokuto shook his head. “When I realised how easily I could be fooled by my own mind I started to wonder what else I was misreading.”

Keiji took his face in his hands and looked him squarely in the eye. “Bokuto san, you are still the same man you were before the surgery. I’ve seen you with suspects, you can still read them as well as ever. You knew about Washio and Sarukui from one glance. Nothing has changed.”

“Except I can’t read you anymore.”

“What do you think I’m saying?”

He shook his head. “Akaashi, I can’t...”

“Tell me.”

Bokuto took a deep breath. “If it was anyone else but you I’d say you were trying to show me you loved me.” There, he’d said it, now he’d have to suffer the consequences.

“Anyone else? Why not me?”

“You don’t believe in love remember.”

“Maybe I’ve changed? Maybe you’ve changed me?”

He could hardly believe his own ears. “You mean it?”

Keiji gave an exasperated breath. “Bokuto Koutarou I love you. Now is that plain enough for you? Heaven knows I’ve been trying to make it obvious for weeks. I was beginning to wonder if they had removed all your brain...”

The rest of Keiji’s rant was cut off by a pair of soft, warm lips that kissed him with a fervour that had him bracing himself against his counter for support. When Bokuto pulled back he could only manage to murmur, “at last!”.


End file.
